


Somebody To Lean On

by icewhisper



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Bisexual Schneider, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Schneider is having a rough night, Suicidal Thoughts, and he needs more friends than just people connected to Pen's family, but nothing actually happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23295025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewhisper/pseuds/icewhisper
Summary: Nick knew him in ways he'd never had the strength to explain to Penelope – ways he’d never wanted to explain to her – because he couldn't put it on her shoulders.
Relationships: Schneider & Nick
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Somebody To Lean On

**Author's Note:**

> Happy One Day At A Time Day!!!!  
> Did I make sure I finished this just in time before season four Jossed everything I'd already written? Yes. Am I sorry? No.

_ You up? _

He sent the text before he could talk himself out of it, swallowed back the hurt pride and the sense of failure and the  _ guilt _ , because it was three in the morning and Nick had better things to be doing. He should be  _ sleeping _ . He had a kid and a life.

_ You okay? _

_ No _ , he texted back and didn't have the energy to point out that Nick hadn't actually answered his question. He'd probably been asleep, same as Schneider should have been, and woke up to a message that, from anyone else, would have been the intro message of a booty call.

Might have been one if it was years ago and he was high enough to not care about the things Father would have said if he'd known.

He pushed back the memories, eyes pressed tight until the hazy images of hands faded away.

_ Do you want to drink? _

_ No _ , he replied, because he didn't. Or… Well, he  _ did _ , but the urge was that familiar background ache for alcohol he had more often than he didn't. It wasn't one of the true cravings that scared him and made him clutch his chip until it cut into his palm and he felt like it was the only thing holding him together.

He just...hadn't been able to stay in his apartment anymore. Not now that Avery was gone for good and the place felt too empty and too much like a prison. Not when he looked around and thought of old hiding spots left empty, because he was supposed to be doing  _ better _ . He was supposed to be getting back on his feet.

He'd still run from his apartment when the walls started to close in and it felt like he couldn't breathe.

_ Are you on the roof? _

He grimaced, caught, and looked around. Stared down towards the asphalt below.  _ You got cameras on me? _ he tried to joke, even tacked on a face with its tongue sticking out, but Nick knew him. Nick knew him in ways he'd never had the strength to explain to Penelope – ways he’d never  _ wanted _ to explain to her – because he couldn't put it on her shoulders.

His phone rang, sound shrill and too loud for what time it was, and he swiped to answer, if only to shut it up. If he'd rejected it, Nick would have just called back and driven over. "Hey," he forced out, all false cheeriness as he held his phone in a shaking grip.

"Talk to me," Nick said, tone low, and he could hear the rustle of the man moving around as he slipped out of his bedroom. "No jokes."

He sighed. "Avery and I broke up."

"And that's got you on the roof?" he asked without judgement. Simple. Calm.

"No. My apartment..." he tried to explain and it felt like a crap explanation to his own ears. An apartment full of every whim he'd given into and he'd still run from it like a child. "Sorry. I shouldn't have woken you. You've got Lexie's recital tomorrow-"

"And I only have to pay attention to one dance out of thirty, Pat," Nick countered. "I can sleep in between, if I need to. What I need to know right now is where you're at."

"I told you. I don't want to drink," he said tiredly, "or use anything else."

"Do you want to hurt yourself?"

He bit his lip and stared down towards the asphalt. Knew the chances of it killing him as much as he knew the damage it would do and the trauma it would leave behind. Hannah from 102 always went out for a run at the crack of dawn every morning before she had to get to class. She'd probably find him first, start screaming, and that would wake up Jacob in 105 who always slept with his windows open.

"Not enough to actually do it," he said finally and knew it wasn't the answer Nick wanted, even if it was the one he probably expected. It wasn't like this was the first time.

"Do you need me to come over there? And don't give me some excuse about the recital," Nick added. "Do you need me?"

"I'm standing on the non-risky side of the barrier," he replied truthfully, because the one time he'd been sitting atop it with his legs dangling over the side, their call had involved tears, a lot more panic, and a 72-hour hold at a hospital that his tenants probably thought was him off on another bender. "I'm not gonna jump, Nick."

"Because you don't want to die or because you don't want to make a mess?"

Schneider flinched. "Mess," he admitted and tried to not feel weak for admitting it. It was depression. He  _ knew _ there was nothing inherently wrong with him because he had it or because he went low sometimes, but he'd also kept it a secret and never told Pen when it probably would have helped her feel less alone. He hadn't known how to voice it before when he was a barely tolerable screwup and, now… He'd already put her through so much in the last few months with the relapse and needing her to hold his hand through the withdrawal. She'd been scared of him and scared  _ for  _ him. He couldn't put this on her too, couldn't look her in the eye and explain how he understood her dark days because he'd spent too many of his own trying to think of a way to die that would make things easier on everyone else.

He heard the jingle of keys and swore. "Nick, you don't need to come over."

"Yes, I do," he argued without heat, "and that's okay."

"It's a bad night-"

"And I don't want you alone for it,” he told him gently. It was that tone he used when someone was breaking down in group; that tone that was as firm as it was soft and said  _ you’re safe _ . Nick had been using that tone a lot with him lately. “So keep talking to me. Anything you want.”

He talked about nothing. The weather. Movie trailers and just  _ how many _ remakes were getting made. The fact that someone in the next building over was playing EDM just loud enough that he could hear it and it was actually kind of rude, because he was sure the guy’s neighbors were getting woken up. That he’d shown Elena how to grout tile, because the Jeurgens on the second floor had hired a hack of a contractor and they were helping out.

He was halfway through a story about this guy who’d asked for his number at the gym when he heard Nick’s car turn off and the audio switch as he was taken off bluetooth.

“You didn’t have to come,” he said again, useless as it was now.

“Uh-huh. Keep talking. Are you downstairs or are you still on the roof? I’ve got my key.”

“Roof,” he sighed and kept talking until the door opened and he saw Nick slip through. Flip flops. An old pair of UCLA sweats, because it didn’t matter how many years ago he graduated, Nick  _ always _ had at least one pair. An old t-shirt with a neckline that was stretched out just enough that he demoted it to a sleep shirt.

Nick disconnected the call once he saw him – ass planted on the ground and leant back against the roof’s barrier – and joined him without worrying about if he was sitting in bird crap or not. “You okay with talking or do you think you need more help right now?”

“Just talking,” he told him. “It’s not that bad tonight.”

“Has it been that bad lately?”

Schneider grimaced and seesawed his hand, because it was the best answer he could give. “It’s not because of the breakup,” he said as he dropped his hand back into his lap and started tossing his phone in between. “It’s been coming for a while. I don’t think we ever really got past me relapsing.”

It was hard. He didn’t even blame Avery for it. She’d barely even known he had a problem at all, much less known about him falling off the wagon. He should have been more up-front with her from the beginning instead of just waving off offers of wine at dinner with empty excuses that he had to drive home after. He  _ should _ have told her instead of letting her figure it out when he spiralled.

“She was always nervous after we got back together. She stopped drinking at dinner and I know she cleaned all the booze out of her apartment before I went over again,” he explained, “and I get why. I even get that she was trying to be supportive. It wasn’t that. She wanted me to be better and I want to be, but I knew I’d already scared her with the alcohol and I couldn’t tell her about the other stuff. It would have made it worse.”

Nick hummed, thoughtful, and tilted his head towards him. “You didn’t relapse with the drugs.”

“No,” he agreed, “but it’s one thing to know you’re dating a recovering alcoholic. It’s another to know you’re dating that  _ and _ a recovering drug addict.” It was something she should have known – a truth he'd  _ owed  _ her after everything he’d put her through – but he’d never been able to find the words.

“You’ve talked about it with your friends,” Nick pointed out, “Penelope, Lydia, and that doctor.”

“And Elena and Alex,” he added softly, "after Pen said I could. Elena had gone too far down the Google rabbit hole and I owed Alex after…” He waved a hand, because the memory of the laundry room still made it hard to breathe. "After everything with their dad, they needed to talk it out."

“But you couldn’t talk to Avery?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know why.” He’d loved her – still did, if he was honest – but he’d never had it in him to let her  _ see _ all of him. They’d started on a lie and ended on half truths. “I know it’s my fault.”

“Pat-”

“It is. She knew Pen knows about this stuff and that Pen had gone with me to some of my meetings, but I never let her,” he said. “I never even asked if she wanted to come with me, because I talk about the drugs, sometimes, and the meetings… They make me feel safe.” He looked back down at his lap, watching as his phone went from one hand to the other. “I don’t get judged there and I thought she might if she knew everything. She got mad, because she thought I tell Pen everything, but I don’t. Pen doesn’t know I get like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s dealing with enough?” he suggested with a shrug as he tipped his head back against the bricks. The stars were starting to peek through the clouds. “She’s always got a lot going on and I don’t want to make her worry about me too, because I’m  _ fine _ most of the time. I can’t put that on her, too, and Lydia’s great, but she’s not great about the whole depression thing.”

“A friendship goes two ways, Pat,” Nick countered. “You hold her up every time she needs you to. Why not let her help sometimes?” He leaned over, nudging Schneider with his shoulder. “She’s small, but she looks like she’d be pretty strong.”

He let out a laugh, weak as it was. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know.”

“Think about talking to her, okay? I’m your ear as long as you need me, but that doesn’t mean I have to be the  _ only _ person you talk to,” Nick said. “And don’t you dare start apologizing for calling me.”

Schneider snapped his mouth shut. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Liar.”

He wanted to argue, could feel the words in his throat – that reminder that being his sponsor didn’t mean Nick was his therapist – but it was an old argument they’d had too many times over the years and, right now, he was too tired to have it again. “I’ll think about it,” he allowed, shelving the argument for another day. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“You sure? We didn’t talk about why you were up here.”

“I don’t know  _ why  _ I was up here. I wasn’t actually going to do anything. I just...needed to get out of my apartment.” He twisted his head back a little so he could get a better look at the top of the barrier. He remembered what the ground looked like below and what he’d thought about as he stared down at it. The thoughts were still in his head, but the smothering feeling his apartment had given him had dissipated.

He leaned into Nick’s side a little, suddenly exhausted, and Nick gave a soft chuckle. “You never finished telling me about the guy at the gym,” the other man teased.

“Maybe now that I’m single,” he hedged, “but who knows.” Probably not. Even if he’d seen the breakup coming in slow motion, he didn’t think his heart was in it to jump back into the pool yet. Avery was the first person he’d let himself really love and he had a feeling that was going to take longer to get over than his old flings. Besides, him and guys had always been complicated. “You want his number?”

“Oh, yeah,” Nick huffed, sarcastic, but he was grinning. It faded when Schneider moved to stand, face turned serious again. “You sure you’re good for tonight?”

“I think I just want to go to bed,” he said, “but I’ll text you if it changes.”

“And call me in the morning.”

“Nick-”

“I’m leaving at eleven to meet Sarah and Lexie for the recital,” he continued. “Call me when you’re up. If I don’t hear from you by noon, I’m coming by.”

“You’ll miss the recital,” he argued as Nick stood up.

“So make sure you call me. The recital starts at one.”

He shot the man an irritated look, but there wasn’t any heat to it. No real anger. He knew Nick cared – cared more than Schneider cared about himself some days – and he’d been right. He needed to at least  _ think  _ about talking to Pen about everything or, if he couldn’t make himself do that, maybe go with the old suggestion of talking to a therapist. He could probably ask Dr. B if he knew anyone. The guy had been cool enough to help Pen out and to check in on him while he’d been drying out. If he asked for a name, Dr. B could probably suggest someone.

“Fine,” he agreed reluctantly. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Good. And, Pat?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, text me  _ before _ you go onto a roof.”

He grimaced, but he nodded.

He called Nick when his alarm went off at 11:50 the next morning, sleepily grumbled that he was okay and to enjoy the recital, then, turned back over and went back to sleep.

The End


End file.
